1965-02-06 - Everyone needs a Chef
Summary: Morbius makes good on his promise to show Lambert the Monster Metropolis, granting him access to the subterranean space and to get to know the people who live there.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
triton lambert morbius 

Morbius mentioned once or twice to Lambert that there is a sanctuary for people like him—like /them/. Sure, he's a quarter satyr and can generally pass if he tries hard enough, but Morbius' logic behind it is that if Lambert can be kind enough to share his sanctuary with Morbius, then he can share and share alike. Community. It's important. Greeks get it.

Traveling to an abandoned, seemingly sealed up former subway station, Morbius neatly lifted the steel sheet in the sidewalk and guided Lambert down the tiled staircase and into the abandoned tunnelway. Guiding the chef through the dark space, sounds echoed off the walls; the scampering of rats, mostly, but there was the occasional slide of feet against rubble as well. Lambert can likely sense through his sharpened smell and hearing that they are not alone. People lurk here in the darkness. Guards to make sure that nobody wanders their way where they ought not.

Mildew, moss, dirt, bodies, the scents are deep and dank and earthy beneath the city. In the winter, it's not so bad, but the summer it can smell sour and like trash. THough as they continue, moving down the tunnel, the scent of human refuse seems to abate. Water. Stone. Rust. It begins to smell more like a cave as dim light shines ahead, around a circular door someone has erected.

It's almost blinding when Michael throws the door open—not that it's terribly bright, but in comparison to the deep dark? Oh yes. A hand still on Lambert's elbow, Michael hums helpfully as he pulls the wildling into the entrance of the Metro. "Step up here. Do not trip." Allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust.

Lambert does not have good night vision - slightly worse than a human, actually, but his hearing is excellent, and his sense of smell vastly better. In here his goat-pupils have widened until they almost look like normal circles. He has to put his hand on Morbius here and there, and he is careful where he steps, his feet cautious. And then his head swings one way and another at the smells of sour refuse, of the edge of rubbish thrown away "Hard on a chef's snout," he mutters, before he holds onto Morbius' hand in turn. The step up is lithe, though. He moves gracefully, and more warily here than elsewhere. The ears are allowed to protrude fully from under his cap "I can't - see -" Up he goes.

Lambert pauses, looking around, nose wrinkling as he inhales, more likely to find his way back to the water by scent than anything else. After a moment, he says "This must have taken considerable effort to build, Michael. I can hear. Breathing?"

"Yes, I know your vision does not accommodate for the dark. I apologize. I continuously forget to bring a flashlight," Morbius laments while he helps Lambert through the abandoned tunnel ways. The rough brick, the rusted railways, the tile cold and slick. "Stay close and I'll be sure you don't step wrongly. Yes, you can hear them then. I wasn't sure how keen your hearing would be. There are people who live in this space. Not ours, but others. Some stay here to make sure nobody wanders where they shouldn't. Our neighbors can be grouchy." To put it mildly.

The vampire on the other hand can clearly see the presence of the figures in the dark, keeping a very neat and polite avoidance of less than friendly faces, they veer in the direction of the Metro. Eventually the glow of the round doors leading into the large undercity that they've claimed come into view. "You would be astonished to learn the extensive tunnels and pathways underneath New York." He pauses. "Or actually, no, you wouldn't. Not surprised. You are a worldlier man than many people who have lived above all of this their whole lives. Come, come. A little while longer and we'll hit the city. There's light there, you should be able to see just fine there. We can't take complete credit for it. Human ingenuity, yes?" Drawing back on their previous conversation with an audible smile.

The tunnels are fascinating if anyone feels the need to investigate, but they're not wandering today. Morbius leads Lambert along carefully until the final door into the Metropolis. Light streaming around the unsealed door. The gruff, beastial breathing of someone sounds loud and clear in Lambert's ears. "Hello, Robert," Morbius hums conversationally to the unseen figure, but there is a /sense/ of something large, hairy, a beast by the scent of it. Something old and wyld to touch Lambert's senses. "Come, come. Just past this door. It'll be bright by comparison, so you may want to brace yourself." Michael warns him ahead of time, pressing the door to the Monster Metropolis open.

"It's fine, I should have brought one," Lambert says, and he adjusts his footing on uneven, slightly wet ground. At least he is agile "Very," he says, his ears twitching, orienting themselves towards the sounds "Though there are a lot of echos. Just. Confusing right now, I shall get the hang of it." At least Lambert has a bright, open, and friendly face. Though how much of that is him and how much is just…being a satyr? Who can tell, right now. He pauses, allowing his eyes to adjust, and then he says "I've been into catacombs in Athens, and other places. I'm…ahaha, shucks, I'm reasonably worldly. Not all Greek legends like the light." And then he adds "Hi Robert," in a cheery fashion "What's up, my dude."

Lambert steps through, into the Monster Metropolis, though his nose is twitching again, and he keeps swinging his head back towards Robert's presence, before he makes a low, thoughtful noise in his throat. Then he folds his arms, and looks around, fascinated, taking it all in "The papers would have a field day down here," he marvels.

Lambert may very well swear something with a huge snout just leaned in and took a deep whiff of his curly, woolly head when he greets this 'Robert' as well. Morbius chortles gently.

Staying beside Lambert, Michael shuts the door behind them, Robert staying behind, inside the tunnel. Smiling with a deep satisfaction in his bones while he watches Lambert's reaction to the domed entrance, Michael hums, "Welcome to the Monster Metropolis, Lambert."

Their central space and social gathering. It's hardly what one would call abandoned, either. Aside from the pair of them, there are figures of myriad sizes and shapes who barely seem to look twice at them. The fountain in the center of their 'neighborhood' currently the hangout of four reptilian looking teenagers, some of whom seem more upright alligator than human—so much for the false rumors of alligators in the sewers. A zombie hangs laundry up slowly piece by piece on a line between two roughshod homes to their left. What seems to be a human-sized sloth or a mole in a very bright, floral print dress and sunglasses chats it up with … a demon? The horns, the whippy tail, the biker jacket. Sort of looks that way.

It's a thriving, living place. Morbius chuckles. "Yes, they certainly would."

Triton was potentially worse than a crocogator in the sewers. Clawed webbed hands thrust up out of the murky fountain and splayed across the flagstones that formed its containment. Topfin flared on the scaled fish creature that pulled himself from the brackish depths. He was armed, but wasn't particularly seeming concerned with feeling like he needed to be. Gills around his neck flared a moment spraying water nearbybefore laying flat. Pulling himself up to a sit straddling the short wall, one webby foot in the ronin Prince of Attilan went about hooking up his aquifier. It was humid down here but smart people don't take unnecessary chances. Largh black orbs the size of lemons glanced around taking in teh daily traffic.

"I don't think all of _this_ was human ingenuity," Lambert says, examining the area. The series of shapes, the reptilian forms. Lambert hesitates, drawing back against Morbius quite a bit "…I'm not quite used to feeling a lil' nervous because I'm _too_ human," he mutters to the vampire "Usually it's the other way around." And then Triton is coming out of the water, and adjusting a rebreather. Hmm. The chef tilts h is head, and he says "I'm just about the only one down here who can't see real well in the dark, right?"

Morbius smiles smally, tightly keeping his fangs from flashing. "Not all of this, no. No. You do have a point." He concedes easily and holds his place strong beside Lambert. His hand reaches around to touch against the middle of the satyrkin's back. "It's quite all right. You aren't the only one down here who has a mixed family. You're welcome here, file mou. Come, come, let's walk. I'll stay with you."

It's not unusual to have someone taking a dip in the dreampool in the middle of the Metropolis. New people show up from time to time, though the population is still small enough still for everyone to know everyone. Triton gets a long look from Morbius as well, though he sticks near Lambert for the time being, not wanting to alarm or raise bells. "Not by half, actually. A number of people down here have poor night vision, or poor vision in general, but few folks actually leave once they're here." His gaze twitches back and forth in Triton's direction, curious.

Triton arived. A new city and one that was curiously similar to a couple others, though still not as he entirely expected on his jaunt out. There was nothing left of Triton that was human if he ever was save for perhaps similar skeletal structure? Even there the skull might be questionable. This was, by body language, exploratory, and unlikely to be sent by Morlocks in most regard. Certainly not mole people as there was nothing badgerlike about fish. He fell into a casual mobility used to finding ways to blend in as if he'd been there forever. Perhaps kismit hi path still brought them in that direction well enough.

Lambert is warm. Warmer than most humans would be, which might be why he has no concerns about the chill in his courtyard. He glances up at Morbius, and he nods, though as triton arrives, one of his ears moves, to track the aquatic creature. The other stays focused independantly on Morbius. Lambert's attention is split, but that does not seem to concern him overmuch. Instead, Morbius' gaze also draws his and…being what he is, Lambert grins. A canine fang peeks out a little, and he calls out "Hello there! I am Lambert Petropolous." And he waves.

Morbius lifts his attention to a couple key points around the central area as others begin to notice the odd, unknown man(?) climbing out of the center pool. Tension begins to prickle around the vicinity as whispers begin.

With a protective bracing of his arm against the small of Lambert's back, Morbius turns slightly to angle himself a bit in front of his very affable guest. Focusing his attention on Triton. "He…is not from here. Lambert, I'm sorry, I need to check on this." Morbius murmurs gently, something amiss in his voice. Their trajectory changes and the vampire slides his arm away from Lambert, making a direct line to Triton rather than beating about the bush any longer. "Excuse me. Who are you?"

Triton looked like the creature from teh Black Lagoon, but he spoke, though with a muffled resonance through the mask, with the cadence of a scholar. "My name is Triton Mander-Azur." A webbed hand splayed across his chest and, manners Oh the fish had manners for someone who had knives on him. Lovely. "Any intrusion is incidental, and offer apology for any upset accrued." There was an accent there but it was not New York.

Lambert himself has no more tension than before - everything down here is equally weird for him. As Morbius steps in front of him, Lambert says "It's okay, Doctor." He pauses, peering around the decidedly more impressive vampire "Er, welcome? I think. I'm new here too," he explains. The bruising across his forehead has turned a series of interesting colours by this point, and Lambert then says to Morbius "He seems nice." Pause. Lambert adds "I don't serve seafood in my restaurant, in case you were going to break my ribs over that." What.

Weird for weird, Morbius doesn't honestly expect much to ruffle Lambert, though whereas last night he was a little frazzled over the interloping in his courtyard, Morbius is slightly on edge as they approach the creature at the pool, waiting for something to go wrong. Glancing backward to Lambert, Morbius tips his chin downward slightly in apology. Deferring to the chef, there's a composed step to one side, no longer guarding Lambert as he was before.

Crimson eyes make contact with a couple other loitering patrons, giving the slightest shake of his head before the situation escalates any, after all, this…fish fellow seems perfectly agreeable for the moment. A nod of agreement to Lambert, followed by a peculiar look. "Why would anyone care if you serve seafood? Fish eat one another regularly. Otherwise a tuna's teeth would be /quite/ pointless. My lord, has someone tried to break your ribs over that?" Absolutely aghast over the very concept, distracting him for several seconds.

Slowly, the vampire turns back to the aquatic man with those wide, black eyes. A hand offered out, hovering between himself and Triton. "Mister Mander-Azur. I am Doctor Morbius. I apologize for the suspicion, but I hope you understand. We don't get guests down this far, and those we do get unannounced are rarely friendly. This is the Monster Metropolis. If you don't mind me asking, did you swim in from the waterways below?"

Triton offered easily, "King Namor of Atlantis is a fanatical vegitarian." He had to give Lambert that one. THe interior eyelids shuttered shut before the solid exteriot pair and opened again. Muffled the fish man hoffered, "I am not he." yes fish eat fish because they were amazingly tasty. He observed the formalities, and being a diplomat waited for those extended and followed in stride. A webbed hand met Morbius' to shake it, likely both careful with claws, talons, nails, and things. "Most simply call me Triton. I'm not one to stand on ceremony with my own titles. I don't expect this of others. Your hospitality is graciously noted. I would be honestly more concerned if security were lax. In short? Yes I came in through the waterways. Not all my people… can survive or pass on the surface. That makes it particularly unsave for them and those around them. Being singularly unique? Well… I'm sure you both understand our shared chalenges."

"Oh, God no, succeeded," says Lambert with a sort of offensive cheeriness to Morbius "Some sort of Atlantean prince got upset over the octopus preserved in vinegar and gave me a lecture. Prodded me a few times. Unfortunately for me, he has God-like strength. So I don't serve seafood. I know. I know. That makes me a _terrible_ Greek - but honestly, I've been wondering," his voice drops "If he's left the city if anyone would notice if I just put fish back on the menu…"

Lambert snaps his fingers, and he gestures to Triton "That's the one!" he says brightly "Well, that's good. To be honest, you're better looking. Triton? You mean like the…statues? The Roman ones?" His understanding of old things is better than new, but then the somewhat rolly polly chef just grins, and all his predatory teeth show, before he glances at Morbius - to see what the vampire reads into things. How he reacts.

Shaking Triton's webbed hand, Michael takes great care to keep his claws away from any of those delicate parts with adept practice. "Triton it is. Very well, please feel free to call me Michael. Thank you for your understanding, and yes. Yes I absolutely can appreciate those challenges."

"Fanatical royalty," Morbius hums thoughtfully as he takes his hand back and Lambert confirms that it was Namor he had that run in with. "I'm sure that bodes well." A neat pluck at the cuffs of his sleeves beneath his jacket. "Lambert, you're breaking my heart with that exemption from your menu. Certainly he cannot go about expecting people to act and behave the way he chooses—Lord, never mind. I forgot for a moment where we were." A heavy inhale of breath expands the good doctor's chest, held there for several seconds before evenly exhaled again. Exchanging a look with Lambert, the question turns his attention back to Triton again. "That is an excellent question. Are you Roman? Or rather, you mentioned 'your people'. Who might they be, if I may ask? If they're seeking some sanctuary, we may be able to provide." A mild gesture about the subterranean city.

Triton chuckled behind the mask in a muffle with a shake of his head. To Lambert he offered in Greek, thught eh accent was distinctly Cypressian in origin, at least one hand was involved being waved minutely as the cadence of words came out. <"He is among my oldest, and dearest friends, like a brother, but still? A horse's ass, Namor is."> THIS amused Triton to no end. "I left him recently in Atlantic, though with naval battles on teh rise? I think you serving fish is the least of his worries." The Inhuman paused curious at his own statement, "Though I've been wrong before. Feel free to tell him off with the phrase, 'but Prince Triton'said and watch his eyebrows get incredibly pointy. Very amusing, truly."

Looking back to Morbius he considered what he could. "My people? Mostly on the surface and will remain there and not indigenous to this soil. As my people are very… private publically? I'm not at liberty to just disclose eveyone's business to everyne else. What I can tell you is I live below city streets, and have secured a space to shelter them while they adapt from being so far away from home. If you wish to meet, however?" He considered this and squint looking around, "I'd honestly be curious if can reach, or how one can reach there from here. We should though, perhaps meet tomorrow? I ahve built a shelter in one of the reclaimed stations." Security wasn't a concern. Not one h e hadn't already considered

"The thing is, Michael, I can't really afford the costs associated with upset godlings destroying bits of my restaurant," Lambert prevaricates, and then he admits "Also, look, Marcie is a single mother, and Sam's dad is in jail, his mum's dead. They have to be paid regardless of what some prissy idiot princeling does, or they'll go hungry, and they're good people. That's what I hate about New York. All those superheroes don't think about what happens if someone can't cover school fees because they laid waste to a secondhand car or something." He pauses, then he snaps his fingers "That reminds me. I've got a present for you." And Lambert grins like a hound, instead of the goat he sometimes looks like.

As Triton speaks Greek, though, he beams, and he laughs at 'horse's ass'. And then he says "Oh, really, I can…say that from you? _Well_. Sir. I believe you need free food for the next month." Because if you scratch Lambert's back, he…look, nevermind that. And then the fish-man needs to go, and Lambert is peering around the place "…this has already been a wonderful night, Michael."

Morbius is utterly entertained by Triton's grasp of Greek. After all, that immediately makes him a good man, doesn't it? Agreeing smoothly to an arrangement to meet later on, Morbius bids Triton a good evening and hums, staring at the pool for a lengthy amount of time, considering it. Or the man who vanished into it.

Once they've been freed up, Morbius smiles patiently to Lambert, gesturing smoothly and following at his side while they stroll through the main hub. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Lambert. I'm sorry for the interruption, but that was exciting. New possible friends, and it sounds like new neighbors. We'll have to send someone out to look through the tunnels later to confirm. Redraw our boundaries. It isn't much and I miss the ability to sit out under the open sky, but it's safe, which was my main goal when I began seeking out others in need of sanctuary. I wanted to share it with you. You've been exceptionally kind to me, Lambert, despite my defensiveness first meeting you."

Lambert is already planning his re…vamped menu. With fish, thankyou, and other items from the sea. Psari plaki. Psarosoupa Kakavia. So much. He is focused on it, enough that when he lifts his head, he is waving the thought away with a broad-fingered hand "Oh, don't worry. It was interesting. Perhaps he can assist you and the others here with mapping those tunnels? I suppose it would be hard being a triton…my people have a little village on Mount Olympus that's mostly concealed by glamours. So…" So things are easier. Lambert then glances sideways at Morbius, and he hesitates, then says with wry honesty "It works best for me to make friends from those who might have reason - ample though it may be - to be suspicious. I mean, you don't seem to quite know _how_ bad satyrs can be, if you did, you'd have been more cautious, I think. And it's fine. Linny…Lindon is…I don't know. He's fragile? And not. Whatever was done to make him what he is, I don't think it was very kind. There's nothing so awful as when the powerful think you are a _thing_. But, eh. Now I get to see this. You might not think of it this way, but for me, if things went…bad for metahumans? It could be a sanctuary."

Michael can almost feel Lambert's planning while they walk, smiling mildly to himself, hands clasp together at the base of his spine. Poised and comfortable walking down a public street. "Yes, perhaps it'll be a good alliance, he seems agreeable, at least. I'm unsure who his people are, but there is space enough in these tunnels. We will have to begin posting more guard in the water ways now, however, if we are beginning to get more aquatic-dwellers." Morbius purses his lips together gently, now working out his own plans momentarily before they're shaken away.

"There's actually a Mount Olympus? That's fascinating. I shouldn't be surprised, of course, but the wonders in this world that have been able to remain secreted away are a marvel." Michael's mouth curves mildly, sliding a sidelong glance toward Lambert. "You think I should have been harder on you? Threatening your life and livelihood wasn't nearly enough? Hm. I wish you would've been there to explain that to the others. I am apparently an insufferable, over-reactive, controlling prick. It isn't as if one of ours is being hunted by men with phenomenal power, reach, resources and means." Bitter sarcasm making his delicate words sharper, like a scalpel for a moment. agitation prickling at the normally poised man's person.

Quickly, he pushes away the /entire/ subject of Lindon and nods slowly. "Yes. That is why I wanted to show you to this place. Even if you never feel the need to visit on your own, it allows me to rest easier knowing that if anything happened, you would have a safe place to be."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License